


Shouldering the Clouds

by AceGreyManx



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Wanderlust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceGreyManx/pseuds/AceGreyManx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vaults weren't designed to last. 262 was no different. But when the inevitable day came, the Pioneer Program was put into place. It had successfully supported the Vault and it's occupants for many years. Anyone could volunteer, but it required sacrifices. </p><p>She just hadn't realised how many. </p><p>[Based on Fallout Shelter]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Three people. That's all you needed to become a Pioneer.

Well, okay it took a little bit more than that. The Above was dangerous, as Marcella often heard. All those who volunteered underwent a month of weapons and survival training courtesy of the Guard and Ivan Harper. Four weeks to learn how to survive radiation, bombs, starvation, crazed lunatics, slavery, cannibalism, monsters… all the numerous horrors left behind by humankind.

It wasn't that much time, considering.

And Marcella didn't consider it. She hadn't thought about the lack of proper preparation, or the danger, or the pain of being away from home. No, she had taken one look at her G.O.A.T result, left the recruiting officer sitting at the table, and headed straight to the overseer's office to place her name on the scratched, yellowing clipboard laying unattended by the assistant's desk.

Because in Vault 262 there was only one way to change your fate. Everything you did was for the vault. You could labour for the rest of your life in the role assigned to you upon graduation from the academy, or—

Or…

For most, it wasn't actually an option. What kind of person would give up their life, their family, their future, just to breathe the poisoned air outside? All vault children grew up hearing about the suffering they were shielded from. Everyone had a vague understanding of just how bad it was. It made for great stories, and everyone loved stories.

But it was also a lesson. And a lesson most heeded. Very, very few joined the Pioneer Programme. And those who did join…

She glanced down at the paper in front of her. Her name was still glistening with fresh ink. It was a gash of black on an otherwise white page.

The assistant stopped his typing. He blinked up at her through rounded frames. "Did you…?"

His eyes travelled to the clipboard and back. "Are you sure? Once you leave this room the decision is permanent."

She still held her exam result in her hand. It was crumpled slightly from her grip. She placed it down and slid it across the desk.

"I'm sure," she said.

He eyed her for a minute longer before sitting back and sighing. "I'll inform your recruitment supervisor of the change. We leave it up to you to inform your family."

He took the document. Marcella watched as her other future disappeared out of sight.

"You're the first of this batch of evaluations to come through. Once the other sectors are finished you'll get information on training. Teams will be assigned afterward."

"What if no one else volunteers?"

"Then you'll wait. There needs to be at least three people before a team is formed."

_Three people._

"Thanks." She turned to leave. Before she crossed the threshold, the man spoke out.

"We thank you for your service to the Vault."

Marcella glanced back, nodded, and stepped out of the room. She paused for a moment on the other side and took a deep breath. There was no going back now.

_We thank you for your service to the Vault._

In Vault 262, everything you did was for the vault. You worked in peace in your assigned spot or you joined the Pioneers. All for the vault.

She walked, trying to control her expression. Trying to ignore the strange shivers racing up and down her back. She felt giddy and nervous, like a child who'd lied for a second helping of desert. Like someone who'd done something they shouldn't have, and gotten away with it.

She couldn't help the surprised chuckle that escaped her mouth.

_We thank you for your service to the Vault._

He didn't know. He hadn't realised. _No one_ knew.

She chuckled harder.

She wasn't doing this for the vault.

She was doing this for herself.


	2. Chapter 2

It was two weeks before she heard anything. She was in the cafeteria, reading through a pre-war book about camping, and marvelling at how her ancestors had thought such a thing could be a leisurely activity. Then the pip-boy on her arm dinged, and the message icon jumped up on screen.

'OVERSEER'S OFFICE AT 14:00', it read.

She polished off her plate and returned the tray. Then she stopped by the library to replace the book. The library was next to the academy rooms, from which she could hardly believe that she'd graduated only 14 days ago. It had felt like an eternity of waiting.

She slowed as she passed by the broad windows, spotting her sister sitting towards the front of Mr. Rosenburg's class.

Marcella waved through the glass. The children giggled, and she could see Bobby Krantz yell something to her sister's back. The twelve year old girl stiffened, glancing over her shoulder briefly. Then she swivelled back around, resolutely turning away from the window. She didn't wave back.

Mr. Rosenburg frowned, apparently unappreciative of the disruption. Marcella mimed an apology and backed away. She tried not to think too much about the cold reception as she headed down to answer the summons.

When she arrived, there was no one in the front office but the same assistant as before, and he indicated she should sit with a tilt of his head.

Patience had never been her strong suit but she thought she might be getting better at it. Still, when a harried looking young man rushed in, Marcella perked up, studying him as he too was told to sit. He took a seat on the opposite side of the room.

He was taller than her, but not by much, which in anyone else's view would classify him as 'short'. He had black hair and pale skin. The hair was what she found most interesting. Not only was it long enough to fall into his eyes, but it was fine and shiny. It swished as he moved his head. The way it fell reminded her of syrup.

He looked nervous. He sat forward in his seat, shoulders pulled in close as his hands gripped the edge of the plastic chair. She didn't know who he was. She supposed he must come from a different sector.

The only sound in the room was the _click-clack_ of the assistant's typing and the occasional shuffling from her companion as they waited. Eventually, he started throwing equally curious glances in her direction.

At 13:57 two more people entered from the hallway. One of them she knew.

Jace Massey walked in like he owned the place. Stopping by the doorway, his green eyes scanned the room as if he'd expected a reception. She got some small satisfaction in his shock at her presence there, actually startling him into acknowledging her for once.

"Robles? What are _you_ doing here?"

"You haven't heard? I'm the new Overseer," she told him.

He blinked. " _What_ —"

"Move it, man."

The person who'd entered behind Jace pushed him aside, going to sit down near syrup-hair. Jace sneered at the man, puffing up his chest before deciding to refocus his attention on Marcella.

"Still think you're funny, do you? I can't believe—"

"Mr. Massey, sit down," came a voice.

He turned to snap at being interrupted again, only to hastily bite back whatever he was about to say.

There, standing in front of the assistant's desk, was the Overseer. She was an imposing figure; tall, but that wasn't where her presence came from. It was her eyes. They were flinty and cold, and as dark as the rest of her. She contemplated them all seriously, showing nothing as the young man rushed to obey. Marcella felt herself straightening in her seat.

"You're all recruits for the Pioneer Programme," the Overseer began. "You've chosen to become the face of our community up there in the Above. That means you will barter, scavenge and steal for the good of the vault. It means you will kill for us. It also means you may die for us.

From today you will be given new quarters in Sector Zero. You are to remain there until you are assigned to a team. You are _not_ to return to your original Sector without clearance, do you understand?"

Her dark eyes bit into them.

"Yes, ma'am," they all mumbled.

She spoke over her shoulder to her assistant. "Dell, put them in."

Pasty fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Exit this room and follow the hallway to the right. The elevator there goes straight to Sector Zero. Your pip-boys have been programmed—"

"Wait!"

Marcella was surprised when syrup-hair jumped up. Evidently, everyone else was too, all eyes fixed on him. It seemed like there were lasers in the Overseer's gaze.

"What about saying goodbye to our families? Can't we just—"

"Mr. Nguyen, you have had ample time to inform your family and say your farewells," she admonished. "If you haven't done so already then that is your own mistake."

Strangely, her tone seemed to soften. "You should learn to spend your time more wisely. You might not have much of it in the wastes."

Her eyes roved over them one-by-one, lingering. Her expression didn't change, but for a moment Marcy thought she'd seen a sadness there.

"We thank you for your service to the vault."

She turned on her heel and stalked into her office. The four of them stood frozen until the owl-eyed Dell cleared his throat.

"If you'll go down the hall…" he prompted.

Shaking out of their reverie, they made their way from the room in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

There were four sectors in Vault 262. Each sector was almost identical, with the exception of Sector Zero. It consisted of the section of the Vault closest to the surface and so was the most exposed to radiation or attack. Marcella had never been to Sector Zero.

She'd never even been to Sector One. There wasn't much reason to travel between sectors when each had the same amenities, jobs and recreation available. In fact, the only time she could recall leaving her sector before this was when she'd visited the Two library for a unique book. The experience had been uncanny, seeing the same hallways and rooms inhabited by different faces.

She'd forgotten where she was at one point and almost entered somebody else's home. That had been incredibly awkward. Whether it was more or less awkward than standing in silence with three people in a tight space for this interminably long elevator ride… well, that was up to debate.

Her gaze was fixed on the level display as it slowly ticked down. She put the shifting feeling in her stomach down to inertia, because it certainly wouldn't be like she was getting nervous now. That feeling of pressure weighing down on her shoulders, that was probably inertia too.

At least she could honestly say that the itching between her shoulder blades wasn't inertia. That was just someone staring at her from behind. She turned slightly to see Jace glowering at her.

She thought they'd ignore each other as they normally did, but he sneered as he caught her eye. "What are you looking at?"

They were stuck in an elevator with two strangers for who-knew how much longer. She shouldn't bait him. She would be mature. She looked past his tanned face to the grey interior.

"Just the wall," she said. "It's got more personality than you."

Well, she tried.

He rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm stuck with you for the rest of the month."

"You're stuck with _me_?" She raised her eyebrows. "I was the first to sign up. Did you even _look_ at the recruitment list? And here I thought reading would be a requirement."

He scowled.

"Guys! Can you _not_ do this right now?"

It was the unnamed fourth person. He was tall, but then she always noticed that about people, for reasons _completely_ unrelated to her own height. He was toned and dark, his form contrasted against Jace's muscled tan and syrup-hair's slender, pale frame. Right now he looked pretty ticked off. He crossed his arms, throwing them a side-long glare.

"And just who are you?" Jace challenged.

"What does that matter?"

"I'm asking for your name, pal."

"I'm not your pal."

"Fine," the green-eyed boy muttered, "it's not like I won't find out eventually."

Marcella faced the front as they all returned to standing in silence. This time it was rife with irritation as well as nervousness. Nguyen stood to her left, barely moving. He hadn't spoken or taken his eyes off the control panel since they entered. His body basically thrummed with tension.

She went back to counting the floors, wondering what kind of reception they would be getting, and moreover if whoever received them would be forgiving. She imagined the Pioneers and members of the Outer Guard as hard, angry people. Scarred, bitter, impatient - maybe missing an eye?

She painted up a picture in her head.

As they approached level 3 the lift slowed to a standstill and Marcy held her breath. Her palms felt sweaty, her stomach fluttered and a mantra repeated in her head.

_I'm ready._

The doors opened. The hallway was empty except for a girl who looked to be around their own age.

"Hi!" she said cheerily. "I'm Beckah!"


	4. Chapter 4

 

Beckah had been a recruit the previous year, when she and only one other joined after their graduation. But two was not enough to form a team, so they’d been assigned to the Outer Guard until an… opening… appeared on one of the existing ones.

 When that eventually happened, the other applicant had been chosen to fill it, and Beckah had continued her rounds as a Guard, waiting either for another opening or for more people to join the program. And now, today, finally that had happened.

So the girl in question told them as she guided all four newcomers down the bland metallic hallways. Beckah was exactly as her first impression had painted her: cheery, chatty and energetic. Marcella felt somewhat unnerved by the stark contrast to her previous expectations for Sector Zero residents.

 Admittedly, she had never really met anyone from Sector Zero before, but she’d heard plenty of stories about them. The Outer Guard and the Pioneers all lived here. Brave people, marked by their experiences with the world above, living with a harsher reality than anyone below could understand. And at the head of them all was Ivan Harper; cold, hard and scarred. It was jokingly said that he was the scariest thing in Vault 262, and only half-jokingly said that he was also the scariest thing outside of it.

 So the cheery personality in front of them was… confusing.

 “This is where you’ll be staying,” Beckah told them as they rounded a corner into another chrome corridor. This one was lined with narrow doors along both sides. “You can pick any one that’s not locked. That will be your home from now on.”

 Marcella jumped as there was a loud hiss behind her. Their tall, stoic companion stood next to a now open doorway, removing his hand from the button.

 “Wow, first try!” Beckah commented brightly. “You must be pretty lucky.”

 He stepped inside, the room seeming to swallow him, his head brushing against the doorframe.

 He turned back. “It’s tiny.”

 Beckah raised an eyebrow. “You signed up to be a Pioneer, didn’t you? What were you expecting, a family-class room? The idea is that you’re meant to be out there, not in here.”

 “And what about you?” He crossed his arms. “Didn’t you just tell us that you’ve been living here for a year already? _In_ _here_?”

 “Look, buddy,” she answered as she moved towards him. His face scrunched in annoyance. “You’ll get used to it. And I think you’ll find that you have more than enough room to keep what’s important.”

 “Besides,” she added as she consolingly patted at his elbow. “It’s a _big_ world out there. Bigger than you can even imagine. And sometimes, you need to have a small, little piece of it to come back to. You'll understand soon that space feels safer when there’s less of it.”

 Then, turning to flash a smile to Marcy and the others in the hall, she said, “Get settled in. We’ll be meeting at 16:00 in the Mess. Just follow the signs.”

Beckah made a show of tapping on the mentioned signs as she wandered off down the hall. Marcella watched until her concentration was broken by Jace’s curses as he tried various buttons. When the panels gave an affronted beep, he moved on to the next one along.

 Stoic was still standing in the first room he’d tried. With his height, the narrow space looked like it was about close in on both sides.

 He caught her staring.

 “Guess I’m in here then,” he muttered.

 She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or just speaking out loud. She left before she might be required to answer.

 Marcella walked in the opposite direction from Jace. She tried several doors before she got one to open. The cold, pricking smell of metal and faded chemicals brushed past her as she stepped inside.

 … It was tiny.

 It hadn’t just been Stoic’s size that made it appear so. Even heeding what their guide had said, Marcella felt cramped in the bare quarters. To her left was a thin metal bedframe connected with the wall. It had a clean white mattress on top. There were two shelves against the back wall, and an old three-drawer dresser beneath them. The paint was flaking off of it, showing patches of rust underneath.

The right-hand wall had a desk, attached in the same manner as the bed, and a simple chair. There was barely half a metre space between the edge of the desk and the bed frame.

This was her home now.

Something strange, a sucking, sinking feeling, pulled within her chest. Her breath caught. Before the feeling could go any further, Marcella turned on her heel and marched out.

Outside she saw Nguyen still standing in the hallway. He was just staring at the doorframes.

She moved her focus to him. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the modifications.” He answered easily. “These aren’t the original doors. They’re a newer tech than the panels. You can see where they’ve made the changes.”

 She didn’t really know what to say to that. “Well, you’d better pick one of them.”

 “Is that an order?” He smiled.

 She was baffled. “What?”

 “You know, because you’re the new Overseer.”

 Marcella thought maybe she already understood what Beckah had meant about needing safe places. She edged back toward her room.

His smile faltered. “You know, because of earlier? When we were downstairs? And he said ‘What are you doing here’ and you were like ‘I’m the new Overseer’, or..  No, actually you didn’t say it like that. It was more snappy, but, y’know, you said…”

 Oh, that’s right. She _had_ said something like that.

 He seemed a little lost, so she nodded and managed a slight smile.

 “I’m Ren, by the way,” he said.

 “Marcella Robles,” she greeted. “You really should find a room, though.”

 “Oh, yeah.” He walked over and slapped the button of the bunk next to hers. It opened.

 “Oh.” He blinked, glancing back at her. “I guess we’ll be neighbours.”


End file.
